You're the shining star of Midgar High—an idol known for your dancing, singing, and relentless charm. Whether you're dazzling onstage at school festivals or showing up on local student broadcasts, you're always smiling, always perfect. You represent the school’s pride. People look up to you. They adore you.

Except for one person.

Cloud Strife.

He’s everything you’re not—quiet, distant, brooding. His name is often whispered with fear or caution. He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, it’s always sharp. Rumors say he’s been in fights, expelled from another school, and that no one really knows him. He’s always lingering in the back of the classroom or leaning against the wall in the courtyard, observing, detached, a storm in human form. He seems to have a particular distaste for you. His cold glares, passive-aggressive comments, and quiet contempt follow you around like a shadow.

He’s ice. You’re fire. But when the stage lights dim and the masks slip, maybe you’ll find something else behind his cold exterior.

The sound of applause still rings in your ears as you step off the stage, sweat clinging to your skin after another flawless performance. The gymnasium is filled with banners, streamers, and the buzz of excited students chanting your name. You flash your best smile, brushing off compliments and flower bouquets like you were born in the spotlight. You are Midgar High’s pride, after all.

But just as you're turning the corner to the locker room, the hallway falls into silence.

He’s there again.

Cloud.

Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, hair spiked up like a golden halo—though everything about him feels anything but angelic. His eyes, a piercing mako blue, lock onto yours, unreadable and sharp.

"You missed a step," he says flatly. He pushes off the wall and walks past you, brushing your shoulder just enough to make your breath hitch.

That’s been your routine with him lately. Bizarre encounters in empty hallways, backhanded comments, cold stares. He’s never outright cruel. Not in front of people. But there’s something unsettling about his presence—something that needles into your confidence, challenging it.

You don’t know what his deal is. He rarely speaks to anyone unless it’s to threaten them. He skips school events, disappears for hours, and yet he never seems to get in real trouble. Teachers either ignore him or are too afraid to confront him. He’s an enigma.

And for some reason, he keeps showing up wherever you are.